


Prompt No. 9: Months

by Anythingtoasted



Series: 100Fics [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Months (No.9)<br/>Characters: Remus Lupin, sirius black<br/>Pairing: Sirius/Remus<br/>Era: wartime<br/>In which Sirius likes Countdown, uses the microwave, and uses Remus' toothbrush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt No. 9: Months

“Fucking  _hell._ What happened to you?”

Remus slumped into the flat and threw his wet coat on the floor. Sirius hovered by him, trying not to overreact to the huge, purple bruise that sat like a bird with its wings outstretched across Remus’ nose and under his eyes. Remus hovered a hand above it. “Your cousin thought it would be funny if she did away with wands altogether. She  _punched me.”_

“Are you alright?” Sirius leaned over to look at it – Remus swatted him away. “Why didn’t you fix it with magic?”

“You’re not supposed to cast spells on your own  _face_ , Sirius. Especially when you’ve been hurt.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll end up cursing your nose off, or giving yourself a lobotomy. That’s why.” He slid into a chair at the dining table and lay back, staring at the ceiling. “It hurts.”

“Do you want me to fix it?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. What’s the spell?” He drew his wand, and Remus’ head shot up so fast that he winced.

“If you don’t know the spell, you are not doing  _anything_  to my face. I’ve enough scars already, thanks very much.”

“Come on, Moony. It’s not a big deal. I was always patching you up in the shack; you told me the spells then.”

“That’s because it was either let you help, or bleed to death. This isn’t quite so drastic.”

“Well, I still think you should let me. You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

Sirius sighed. He gently kissed Remus’ forehead; Remus shrank away. “Ow. Be careful, wazzock.”

“This has been a fine hello, by the way.”

Remus sighed and lay back in the chair again. “You started it.”

Silence descended, as Remus lay there with his eyes closed and Sirius hummed quietly, putting the kettle on. “Tea?”

“Oh, god, yes please.”

Sirius chuckled. There was a pause, until he said quietly, rinsing a mug at the sink, “How long has it been since we last saw eachother?”

“I don’t know. When was Easter?”

“Last month.”

“When was James’ birthday?”

“The month before that. March.”

Remus pulled himself up and turned to look at Sirius. “Has it really been  _four months?”_  He shook his head – then, confused, he looked around for the first time. “Oh - oh my god. Did you  _clean?”_ Sirius laughed again and brought the tea over. He set the mug before Remus, who fell upon it but shrunk back from it immediately, sipping it gingerly instead. “Stupid nose.” He muttered, frowning. Sirius leaned on the kitchen counter; Remus turned in his chair to face him, cup grasped tightly in his scarred hands. “Sirius, did you clean… because I was coming home?”

Sirius avoided his eyes, choosing instead to stare embarrassedly into his mug. “I may have.”

“But you  _never_ clean.”

“I know.”

“You said cleaning was for witches. Remember? We argued because you were being sexist?”

“Then I suppose I’m a witch.” Sirius smirked at him but looked nervous, nonetheless. Remus, shocked, stood up. He walked into the living room in silence, stood stock still in the middle of it, then moved into the bedroom. Then the bathroom. Sirius heard nothing and then, echoing from the bathroom;

“Are you  _dying?”_

“What?” He shouted back. Remus emerged from the bathroom and came back into the kitchen.

“I said, are you dying? Because that’s the only thing that could explain this. You’re  _not_ dying, are you?”

“I’m not dying.” Sirius still wasn’t making eye contact. He became very interested in his own shirt-collar, which was really nothing special. Remus watched him from across the room.

“…then why?”

“You don’t have to make a big deal out of it, Remus.”

“Pads. In all the time I have known you, you have  _never cleaned._ At Hogwarts, the elves refused to make your bed, it was such a state. Your trunk was so disorganised, when we opened it there was a  _literal avalanche.”_

“I’m still not sure how that happened.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He looked around, again, still astonished. “It’s lovely, Sirius, really. But why?”

“I don’t know. You were coming home. I wanted – I felt bad, me being here, you out there.”

Remus looked at him. He crossed the room and kissed him, then winced and stepped away, covering his nose. “Ouch. Sorry.”

Sirius smiled, but still looked perturbed. “It’s okay. Look. I just – I wanted to show you – you remember what you said to me in January?”

“…Don’t use the microwave?”

“No.”

“Stop watching  _Countdown?_ ”

“No. And, just so you know, the microwave isn’t that dangerous, and Carol Vorderman is a stone cold fox. No, I – look, if you don’t remember, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“What did I say?”

“Nothing. Your tea’s getting cold.”

“Well, thank you, anyway. Even if you must be so secretive.” He raised his eyebrows and returned to the table.

“No problem.” Sirius smiled over his tea to himself.

xxx

That night, standing over the sink brushing his teeth, Remus became aware of two things.

First, one of the things he’d said before he left in January was ‘don’t you dare use my toothbrush’, and Sirius hadn’t listened. Second, he’d also said ‘love you’. Thoughtlessly, like it wasn’t the first time. He’d forgotten. Sirius  _hadn’t_.

He smiled at himself in the mirror, even at the giant blue-black bruise, and climbed into bed next to Sirius, who was half asleep.

“Argh.” Sirius mumbled groggily. “Your feet are so cold.”

“Sorry.” He kissed the back of Sirius’ neck gingerly, careful not to involve his nose in it, and draped his arm over Sirius’ waist. “So, hey. Did you miss me when I was gone?”

Sirius laughed in disbelief, muffled against the pillow. “Remus.  _I cleaned._ Does that answer your question?”

“Thank you.”

“N’probl’m.” He slurred, yawning. “’Night.”

“Night, love.” He said quietly. Remus lay back. He listened to Sirius breathing, to the noise of the cars outside. He watched as the street lights and shadows travelled in slanted rectangles across the walls and ceiling of their tiny bedroom.

He’d missed this. He smiled in the darkness.

Home. 


End file.
